


Mine

by lilsmartass



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Marking, PWP, Posessive!Steve, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsmartass/pseuds/lilsmartass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has a very interesting tatoo. Written for the kinkmeme</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: R  
> Disclaimer: I own the Avengers. I totally do. I’m definitely not lying. You believe me right?   
> Warning/Spoilers: Marking, Posessive Steve, Slash  
> Genre: PWP

**Mine**

 

Steve pushes him back into the room and Tony sinks onto the bed as his knees hit the side of the mattress. Steve crawls up his body, big hands clumsily fumbling at his clothes, trying to rip them out of the way. Tony represses a smirk and leans up a little to give Steve a deep, filthy kiss, tongue licking Steve’s taste out of his mouth with a long, slow swipe. He still can’t believe Steve, Steve Rogers, _Captain America_ wants him, and he still can’t believe how incredibly dominant Steve gets in bed. He’d always assumed the Captain was a wilting flower, virgin Prince type, the type who’d demand permission and consent for every touch, every caress, but no, Steve just _took_. Using Tony’s body like it was his _right_ , but holding him so warm and safe afterwards and making the act itself feel so damn good. There are very few people Tony Stark can let go in front of, few people he can trust to catch him, but he trusted Steve in battle with his life and here, he trusted him with his heart.

The kiss deepens until Tony can barely breathe and he pulls back with a sharp nip to Steve’s bottom lip. The super soldier growls again, and with a single tug, all that is left of Tony’s Armani suit are a collection of very expensive rags fluttering around the room. Steve’s eyes darken, pupils dilating and, knowing he is displayed at his best against the black velvet sheets, Tony gives a wanton wiggle and spreads his legs wide. “C’mon Captain,” he taunts, low and throaty.

He expects Steve to grab a pillow and thrust it under his hips angling him upwards. He’s already prepared, ass still dripping lubricant from the pre-date sex they had indulged in before leaving the tower. They always have sex face to face; Steve likes to look in his eyes as he falls apart. He is most definitely not expecting one of Steve’s ridiculously enormous hands to grab him around the thigh and tug, flipping him over onto his hands and knees. He is not expecting that because if he had been expecting it, he’d have come up with some reason why it wasn’t allowed.

For a moment, he entertains the notion that maybe Steve won’t see it, too lust driven, too far gone, too desperate to be inside him. To that end he gives another wriggle and a whine which is yes, calculated, but also a noise guaranteed to bring Steve from soft to rutting against him in seconds. Except today apparently, today, one of Steve’s hands is on the small of his back holding him in place and the other is teasing in between his legs – an unfair interrogation method by the way, definitely unethical – and Steve says softly, “Why have you got a picture of my shield on your ass Tony?”

“It’s an...ah, yes, god yes Steve there...birthmark.”

A not-exactly painful tug on his balls makes him hiss and Steve says, “The truth Tony.” His voice has that endlessly patient quality that makes Tony believe he can (and will) sit here, unmoving all night.

Tony presses back against his palm and Steve pets him soothingly, but doesn’t even attempt to give him the type of friction he needs. “Tattoo,” Tony grinds out after a second, “I was drunk.” That earns him a finger teasing at his hole, which is an even less just interrogation method but the story spills out of him anyway, about how he’d idolised Captain America, even when he was nothing but a story Howard would tell when in a particularly good mood, how he’d spent his teenage years jacking off to the few photos Howard had of him, about how once he was emancipated and able to make his own decisions he’d wanted to indulge his fanboy urges. Steve is rocking up against him now, but still not inside and Tony actually _hurts_ he’s so hard. “C’mon Steve, I told you.”

Steve presses his length fully inside Tony and thrusts forward. Tony takes him with a relieved groan, and thrusts backwards, matching Steve’s pace as he begins to move. Steve’s voice is still perfectly level, he’s still in complete control, even riding the pleasure this close to the edge. “Even before you met me you were mine,” he breathes against Tony’s back.

In contrast, Tony’s voice is wrecked and hoarse, desperate, “Yeah, yeah yours,” he agrees mindlessly, “ _fuck me_ Steve, I’m not made of glass, I’m not going to break.”

Steve tightens his grip a little and slams into Tony a little harder. It startles a gasp out of him, but not a disapproving one and he wriggles again, clenching his inner walls around Steve. This time it is the super soldier who groans. Steve ruts into him, hard and fast. He can hardly think for the noises Tony is making, whimpers of encouragement and his hand creeps around his lover to rub at his cock, hanging heavy and hard between his legs. Normally, he looks at Tony when they do this, admiring the lines of his body, the way he so unashamedly splinters into pleasure filled shards under him, but this time, he can’t take his eyes from the mark, _his_ mark, on Tony’s ass.

Steve has never thought of himself as a possessive man, but this riles him in a way he can’t explain. He likes it, loves it, but wants to make it his, not a mark of Tony’s teenage daydreams. He wants to mark Tony for real, but the idea of leaving marks on his lover’s fragile flesh horrifies him. Underneath him, Tony groans once and spasms, and Steve feels his warm come spill over his fingers. He clenches down hard around Steve and Steve feels lights bloom behind his eyes. He knows he’ll last seconds.

It isn’t even a conscious decision, merely something his non-serum enhanced lizard brain suggests. He drags himself from the warm, delicious heat and the feeling of Tony’s muscles trying to pull him back in is too much. He’s coming, semen dripping down onto Tony’s ass, covering the shield entirely in one, long stream. Tony stays still, lets Steve finish and then collapses from hands and knees to his belly. He looks like he wants to make one of his patented sarcastic remarks, but he’s too tired and too fucked out to even open his eyes. “OK?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty colouring his tone.

Steve doesn’t know whether he means the sex or the tattoo, either way, it doesn’t change the answer. He contorts himself, even though all he really wants to do is sink into a sated sleep beside Tony and presses a kiss against the tattoo, tasting both himself and Tony where his come and Tony’s sweat have mixed. “Love you,” he says softly.

They both fall into sleep with smiles on their faces. 


End file.
